


At Ease, Soldier

by Johnlockiana



Series: The Intimacy of Control [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom John, Control Issues, Established Relationship, Light Bondage, M/M, Top Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 10:56:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8325109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlockiana/pseuds/Johnlockiana
Summary: Sherlock and John are having their journey through the world of control, surrender and intimacy. For the first time, Sherlock will take the lead. How will John cope with, for once, not being in control? How will Sherlock be able to get through to him?





	

Sherlock was reclining on the couch, his fingers steepled underneath his chin. John should be home from work soon. Preferably in a good mood, since Sherlock had the evening already planned out. It had been a few weeks since their last session, which had given him ample time to plan. Of course, they’d had sex in the meantime, but not _that_ type of sex. John had agreed to next time being Sherlock’s turn, and he was always true to his word. 

Although Sherlock wasn’t really sure exactly what type of sex it was to begin with, come to think of it. Not that it needed a category, of course, but Sherlock liked categories. Order, structure – sensible systems of data that could be neatly arranged in the shelves of his mind palace.

John occupied a whole room, filled with data on every surface. And soon, he thought, he would be adding even more to it. He had made a whole new cabinet, just for this evening.

He heard the door below open and footsteps up the staircase. Just in time. John’s steps were light. Perfect, that meant he’d had a good day at work and was thus in a fine mood. 

A dinner-y smell came wafting through the room. Ah, he’d brought take-away. Even better. A quick meal then. 

John entered their living room door.

"Got some Chinese, couldn’t be bothered to cook today," he said. Sherlock got up and together they prepared their dinner. Setting plates and forks, peering into containers to figure out what went where.

They ate in companionable silence. If John registered Sherlock staring at him every now and then, he didn’t comment on it. After a quick wash-up, John headed for his living room chair. Sherlock caught him by his hand and tugged.

"What…?" John went silent when he saw Sherlock’s intense stare. He knew that look. Sherlock gave him exactly two seconds to protest, if protest he wanted, before he pulled John even closer and bent down to kiss him.

John answered immediately, and they kissed with more hunger than they had ever shown towards the meager dinner. 

"So… your night?" John asked breathlessly, as Sherlock kissed him below his ear.

"Yes," Sherlock whispered. 

After another kiss, Sherlock, still holding John’s hand, led them into the bedroom. He continued to kiss John on his chin, below his ear, down his neck. Only stopping to pull John’s jumper (the ridiculous thing!) over his head before returning to kiss his way down John’s shoulder and chest. He gently sucked on a nipple while unbuttoning John’s trousers and pulling them down. John had closed his eyes and sighed happily, automatically stepping out of his trousers and pants as Sherlock tugged them down. 

Sherlock took a step back, his eyes roaming over John. From his hairline down to his toes and back up again. John lifted his chin, not showing the slightest sign of embarrasment under such scrutiny. Sherlock gave a little smile.

"On the bed, please. On your back, hands over your head."

John did as he was told with a small grin.

"What, are you copying me?" he joked as he layed down.

Sherlock descended on him with a pair of handcuffs in his hand. 

"I am always open for inspiration," he replied, fastening John’s wrists to the headboard with the handcuffs. He put the key on the night stand before standing up and undressing in front of John. John stared just as openly as Sherlock had done. Sherlock could feel his pulse increasing from the confidence and arousal he saw in those dark blue eyes. He had to take a deep breath to collect himself. 

He climbed on top of John, his legs on each side of John’s hips, his arms by his head, resuming the kissing for a little while.

"So," John said, in a slightly teasing tone. "How do you plan to begin? Riding crop?" 

_Humour. Deflection._

_Control._

"No, pain won't work on you," Sherlock replied, kissing John lightly on his good shoulder and down his chest.

"Pain will make you more determined. Stronger. Pain will make you a soldier."

John gave a little snort.

"Well, enough pain and I will give in too."

"Enough pain and you will break. That is certainly not my intent."

"Then what is your intent?" he whispered.

Sherlock stopped kissing his way down John's chest and returned to look him in the eyes. 

"I want you to lose your control."

"I say job already done then." John pulled on the cuffs to emphasise his point. "You already are in control."

"No, not really. You are still very much in control of yourself. You're tense and guarded." Sherlock stroked John down his cheek. John blinked in surprise.

"I want you unguarded," he whispered. "I want you to give in. To surrender."

John stared straight ahead, towards the ceiling. "And how do you plan to do that?"

Sherlock could hear the slight tremble underneath. And the determination that followed. 

"Always the soldier," he whispered into John's ear.

Sherlock didn’t say anything more as he again began kissing and lightly sucking on John’s good shoulder. He moved towards his upper chest, kissed his way over to John’s left side. He started kissing lovingly on John’s scar.

John drew in a sharp breath.

"No. Sherlock, stop."

Sherlock stopped kissing, but still hovered over his scar.

"Is that a yellow?" he asked.

"Yes. No! I mean… we don’t have to take a break, but…"

"Me kissing your scar makes you uncomfortable," Sherlock stated.

"Yes!"

"Why?"

John huffed a laugh. 

"Why? Isn’t that obvious?"

Sherlock was still perched on top of John, his lips an inch from the scar.

"It’s not obvious to me."

John looked slightly exasperated, but Sherlock refused to let him off the hook.

"Tell me."

"Because… well, first of all it’s ugly. Not exactly a turn-on, is it? Secondly, it’s stiff and uncomfortable in itself. Thirdly… well, it reminds me of a lot of bad stuff, doesn’t it? A lot of bad memories."

"Well, see…" Sherlock said. "I view it very differently."

John looked at him in surprise, the first time their eyes had met since Sherlock started this.

"I think it’s beautiful. Because there is so much of you in it. And so much of you because of it. Not only did it lead you to me, it shows so much of who you are and who you were. Of your bravery, of you being a soldier, of you being a doctor. Of how you once were depressed because of it, but also how strong you are in coming back from it."

Sherlock very gently kissed the scar again.

"This is you, John Watson. And therefore I love it."

John swallowed. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again. 

Sherlock hovered over the scar again, looking up at John. 

"Can I?"

John started up at the ceiling, blinking a few times.

"Yes," he answered stiffly.

Sherlock returned to the scar, kissing and lightly sucking it. From the top of the shoulder down to the chest area. He didn’t stay too long, though – overdo it and it would seem like overcompensating, he thought.

He continued kissing John on his chest and down to his diaphragm. John’s belly was a bit softer than it used to be. He had put on a few pounds the last couple of years. Not much, but enough to soften him up so that Sherlock could grab parts of his belly. Which he did. Just as lovingly, he kissed John around the navel, on the sides of his belly. 

He sensed John stiffen a bit. 

"This makes you uncomfortable," he stated. "You feel self-conscious about these few extra pounds." 

Sherlock kissed him a bit more before sliding up to John’s face again. He stroked him lovingly down his chin.

"Tell me," he whispered. "Is it that you think I would love you less like this – or is it that you love yourself less because of it?"

John blinked several times, his eyes had gone a bit moist. 

"I…" he started. He seemed unable to continue.

"Because if possible, this makes me love you even more. This… " he lightly squeezed on the softest part. 

"…this tells me that you feel safe. You are never in better shape as when you are at war, John. You are fit because you need to be. But this tells me that you feel safe in my company, safe enough to actually let some of your guard down."

Sherlock kissed John from his neck up to his ear before whispering:

"From a soldier, I can think of no higher compliment, to show that level of trust."

John looked at him. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes betrayed his emotions. How he felt both touched, and slightly intimidated, by being read like this. 

"But you don’t like that, do you, John?" Sherlock continued. 

"Because it means that, even just for a moment, you have… lost control?"

John drew in a sharp and deep breath. He returned to gaze at the ceiling, before closing his eyes in defeat.

Sherlock planted small kissed around John’s mouth, trying to get him to relax a bit. He nipped at his upper lip until John parted his lips, and they kissed. Sherlock put all his warmth into it, trying to show to John how much he loved him. John kissed just as eagerly back. He moved his arms automatically in an attempt to touch Sherlock, card his hands lovingly through his hair, and made a sound of frustration deep in his throat when the cuffs stopped him.

"Take these off," he whispered. 

Sherlock shook his head, as he continued to kiss John. 

"If I did, you would have me on my back in an instant. And as pleasant as that might be, it’s not what I have planned for tonight."

John gave a quick smile before leaning up for another kiss. Sherlock noticed John was full of passion, of… gratefulness. He was more open and unguarded than he had been in a long time, Sherlock’s heart sang with this revelation and he kissed in return as passionately as he could.

Slightly regretful, he broke the kiss and continued his downward path. As he kissed below John’s belly button, nipping slightly at the curled hair below, one of his hands snuck it’s way between John’s cheeks. 

He noticed John stiffening again. 

"You don’t like this. Not because you think it’s submissive or any other idiotic opinion people might have. And as a doctor, you know the discomfort will be very brief."

Sherlock’s mouth hovered above John’s half-hard prick.

"No, you don’t like it because you fear it will be too good. You know, at least in theory, how incredibly intense prostate stimulation can be. It might even make you… lose control."

John closed his eyes again. His breath was becoming slightly ragged.

Sherlock crawled back up again, his hand caressing John’s face. 

"John, let go. Let me. Do you think you always have to be strong for me?" He kissed him on his temple, his nose, his chin. 

"I love you, John. I love your strength, your weakness. I love your control and your loss of it. I don’t love you despite of what you view as flaws, I love all of you. But you only show me half of you. Please, let me see all of who you can be."

John looked him straight in the eye, he seemed almost to be in in pain. Sherlock had never seen him this open, this vulnerable. 

"Please, John… let me try. You know you can always use the safeword if it’s too much or feels wrong. It’s always there. But let me try."

John looked on the verge of tears.

"Yes," he whispered, all sense of ironic distance and humor gone from his voice. 

For the first time, Sherlock was very grateful for John always taking his time to prepare him. Even though he hadn’t done this before with John, he knew what to do. He also knew that no matter what he did, there would be a slight discomfort. So to take John’s focus away from it, he took a deep breath and swallowed him down almost to the hilt at the same time as his lubed finger breached through.

John gasped loudly.

"Oh _God!_ Sherlock, that’s…"

Encouraged, Sherlock set forth to perform the best blowjob in his life while simoultaneously opening John up slowly and steadily. 

John almost lifted himself from the bed as Sherlock worked. He moaned and his legs started to move restlessly. Sherlock allowed himself a moment of triumph before continuing. His hand kept John steady by the lower end of his shaft, while bobbing his head and sucking hard. The fingers on his other hand were busy scissoring their way into John. 

John made some wondeful noises that made Sherlock tingle and flutter inside. He didn’t stop for a moment, though, relentlessly drowning John’s defenses in raw pleasure.

Until… yes, there he was. His fingers were deep inside John, moving and… John’s eyes went wide and he let out a guttural moan, unlike anything Sherlock had ever heard. He quickly got up and straddled John. While kissing him on his neck and ear, he continued to fuck him with his fingers and at the same time stroking him with the other hand.

John seemed completely gone. He had closed his eyes, his features completely relaxed and lost in bliss. He had drawn up his legs, bent at the knees, probably without even realising it.

John seemed to be ready. Sherlock continued opening him up with one hand while using the other to lube himself up. Slowly, very slowly, he slid himself into place. John opened his eyes, all defences gone. As Sherlock pushed himself in completely, John moaned again and keened upwards. As Sherlock started moving, John did the same.

And that’s when Sherlock saw it. John completely relenting his control, giving in to the moment, his face showing nothing but open rawness and pure enjoyment.

Only then did Sherlock open the cuffs. With a quick motion, he picked up the key from the night stand, openend the lock and threw the key to the floor, all the while still moving inside John.

John quickly shook himself free of the cuffs, his arms going up to embrace Sherlock, who had now leaned down. They kissed hungrily, lost in the moment. John held onto Sherlock’s curls as Sherlock made sure to hit his prostate again and again. 

"I, oh _God_ , will… I’m… _gah_ , almost…" John babbled. Sherlock increased his pace, both with his hand and how he moved inside John. He closed his eyes for a moment, making sure he was close to coming himself as he didn’t want to continue once John was finished. 

With a drawn in breath and a final, loud groan, close to a sob, John came. His head fell back on the pillow, eyes closed, completely gone. Sherlock came just after, almost falling on top of John. 

They laid there for a while, catching their breaths. John had his arms around Sherlock in a tight embrace, his head to Sherlock’s chest. John was silent, but Sherlock could feel a few tears running down his chest from where John was resting.

"Thank you," John whispered.

Sherlock had to swallow a lump in his throat. He kissed him warmly on the top of his head, and hugged him tightly.

"The very least, John."

**Author's Note:**

> The last instalment of my little series - thank you for your comments and supports! It has been great fun, and a learning experience for me as a noob writer. :)
> 
>  
> 
> A great thank you to Doomsteady for beta reading my fic. However, any remaining errors are my own.


End file.
